


A Perfectly Appropriate Amount of Dicks

by tamerofdarkstars



Category: Homestuck
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Kiss Kiss Fall in Love, M/M, Oblivious Dave Strider, canon typical language, gratuitous references to love actually, heh, hello darkness my old friend, turns out im still homestuck trash, who knew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 18:10:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7694341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamerofdarkstars/pseuds/tamerofdarkstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So the first thing to be said is that you were going for a high five.</p>
<p>But like, for real though."</p>
<p>-<br/>In which there is kissing, some inner monologue, and no one actually watches Love, Actually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Perfectly Appropriate Amount of Dicks

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm still secretly homestuck trash. Pardon me as I go paint myself grey and watch horn tutorials on youtube.

So the first thing to be said is that you were going for a high five.

But like, for real though.

A high five with your hands. Just two normal bros high fiving like bros do when something has been particularly awesome.

But the thing is, it turned into the least bro-like high five on the planet. In this galaxy.

Or maybe not the galaxy, ok, cause the galaxy is pretty fucking big, and you have no idea how bro-like the aliens are. Because there are most definitely aliens and they're probably awesome because aliens are excellent. So yeah, maybe your high five _was_ actually the least bro-like high five in the galaxy because you are 98.7% sure that bros don't high five with their faces.

Is there such a thing as a lip-five? Or, like a lip-two since there are only two of them?

Or four, maybe, if you add all the lips involved together into a lip total.

It occurs to you that you are in fact describing a kiss and that that is what just occurred between you and your absolute best friend on this planet or any other one and you want to punch yourself in the face. Lip to fist contact.

Except your lips are still kind of tingling and you don't really want that feeling to go away anytime soon because Karkat tasted like surprise and you didn't think that was anything that could really be tasted? Like, chocolate or sweet sweet apple juice sure, but not surprise.

None of this really matters in the long run because you kissed your best friend and he ran and you are now alone and bereft of companionship and your lips are tingly and you're not really sure what to do now.

So you do what any sane person would do in this situation and you call Rose.

Because your twin sister is amazing – terrifying, but amazing - and you're pretty positive that she and her girlfriend have lip-two'd several times. With tongue.

Oh ew. You've grossed yourself out and you spend several minutes making increasingly dramatic gagging sounds for an audience of no one.

Whatever. If John were here, he'd be rolling on the ground.

Although, if John were here you'd have to tell him you lip-two'd Karkat Vantas while you two were arguing over _Love, Actually_ and that's not really something you think you ever want to tell John because despite your deep burning passion and love for John Egbert (no homo) you know he'd laugh his ass off at you for the rest of your natural lives because he is, in fact, kind of an asshole.

Plus you don't really wanna share this with anyone except Rose because it makes your stomach tight and butterflies beat their stupid wings against your ribcage because holy _shit_ you just kissed Karkat motherfucking Vantas and turns out you maybe might have kind of wanted to do that for a while?

You grab your phone and dial Rose and wait, having a silent freak-out. The TV is still playing the _Love, Actually_ menu and you focus on Alan Rickman's face while you listen to the phone ring.

Rose doesn't answer but her voicemail calms you down a bit anyway because just listening to your twin's voice is soothing. You'll probably never tell Rose that, but you think she probably knows anyway because she knows everything and she knows you better than you do.

Wow, you're a sap.

You shake yourself out of it and get your game face on. Ok. Problem. You kissed Karkat.

In _celebration,_ ok - he'd been doing that thing he does where he wrinkles his nose and gets all red and shouty and you'd just been sitting there when it hit you like a ton of cartoon bricks that you didn't really care what movie you guys watched as long as you watched it with Karkat, and then something possessed you like some kind of demonic hell spawn from the depths of fire and lava and grabbed your body and lurched you forward and instead of high fiving like you were _obviously_ going for, you grabbed Karkat's face in both your hands and you laid one big giant smackeroo on him.

With your lips.

And then he ran and that's kind of the worst part. You don't even think he left the house - you're pretty sure he went scrambling for the stairs and ran up instead of outside, so he's somewhere trapped in the upstairs of your house and you're in the downstairs and no one is watching _Love, Actually_ which, let’s be honest here, is the real tragedy.

Something moves out of the corner of your eye and you look just in time to see one of your Bro's decorative swords fall off the wall and hit the floor with a clatter.

The noise breaks the quiet with all the grace of an elephant garumphing its way through the woods, knocking over trees and generally being an asshole.

... Do elephants live in the woods?

Whatever. The metaphor landed. Suck it, elephants.

You cross to the sword and pick it up, examining it before replacing it on the wall.

Then, because you are an absolute fucking badass, you straighten your shoulders, take a deep breath through your mouth and march your ass up the stairs.

To find Karkat.

And sit down.

And talk

Like

_Men_.

Except Karkat is really good at hiding? You check the hallway, the bathroom, the linen closet and even peek into Bro's room briefly before turning at last to your bedroom door.

You initially discounted that because why would Karkat go hide in your room? Well, aside from the obvious that it's badass and awesome and full of all your coolest shit.

You creep the door open and lean on the doorframe.

Karkat is lying on your bed, hands behind his head, glaring at the ceiling like the ceiling was to understand that it was being punished for some foul misdeed.

You open your mouth to say something smooth:

"The ceiling crack above the bed looks like a dick if you squint."

Fucking _nailed it_.

Karkat doesn't look at you. "You've clearly never seen many dicks then."

Um, excuse him, you have seen plenty of dicks, thank you. A multitude of dicks. More dicks than you can even count. An insurmountable number of dicks. In fact—

This isn't coming out as suave as it was in your head.

You've seen a perfectly appropriate amount of dicks, ok?

A perfectly appropriate amount of dicks.

You consider telling Karkat this, then decide against it.

Probably not the time. Even though, as you and John have determined on multiple occasions, it's never a bad time for a dick joke.

"Hey, so uh--" you begin at the same time Karkat says: "Hey, you know what, fuck you--"

You both freeze.

"You first," you say, graciously. Karkat's sounds more interesting anyway.

"Uh," Karkat is blushing to the roots of his hair, deep red, and it makes your guts do a strange clenching sort of jerk.

It's a strange feeling, but not a bad one.

"So."

"You're an asshole," Karkat grouches, and flops back onto the bed, hands over his face.

"Rude," you mumble and Karkat squints at you from beneath his fingers.

"No, what's rude is that you go our entire freaking lives in an oblivious sort of ass-shaped cloud just farting out rain and idiocy, and that stupid swoopy thing your hair does, not to mention making my heart fucking skip. Skip, Strider! You know I thought I had an idiopathic arrhythmia? I got fucking tested, Strider. Tested!"

Karkat takes a breath and you blink, wondering if he's actually ranting what you think he's ranting. Your guts aren't sure how to handle this and appear to have joined your heart in just convulsing confusedly.

"And then you fucking kiss me? Just like that. Boom, let's watch _Love, Actually_ , Karkat, one of the most classically romantic movies and cinematic masterpieces of this generation and oh, by the way, let me reignite the fucking hell flames of your useless crush on my oblivious ass with a motherfucking smoocharoo right on the mouth."

Karkat sits up and glares at you, arms folded across his chest. "This is you. I was being you. That's you sounding so mind-gurglingly stupid."

You blink.

Holy shit.

Karkat harrumphs and falls backwards again, returning his glower to the ceiling.

You clear your throat. "Wow, dude. Gay."

Karkat sits bolt upright again. "NO FUCKING SHIT, SHERLOCK, REALLY!?"

You jump slightly because hot damn, those were some capital letters right there.

"But see, here's the thing, Vantas," you say, taking the smallest of baby steps forward. Like an actual real life baby probably takes bigger steps. But then, a baby has an advantage over you because it gets to use four appendages to your two.

Babies, man, they're sneaky bastards.

"I think, considering the fact that I appear to have been in love with you for a while now, that that also makes me pretty fucking gay."

Karkat blinks roundly and then slowly steeples his fingers in front of his face, taking a deep breath. "Strider, if you tell me we could have been making out to movies this whole damn time, I am going to lose my motherfucking mind."

"We could have been making out to movies this whole damn time."

Karkat throws his hands up and begins shouting at the ceiling. "That's it! My mind. It's gone. Lost. You fucking killed it. It's dead. Goodbye, Karkat Vantas, you dumb fuckass, no one will miss your blathering--"

You have a thought.

And, reflecting upon the conversation thus far, you rather like your thought.

You stride (heh) towards the bed, imagining explosions and action scenes strewn in your wake and bend over Karkat, putting your hand over his mouth.

He stops talking abruptly, eyes squinting at you as his face twists into a scowl, and fuck you upside down with a crowbar, he's really pretty damn adorable all scrunched up like that.

So obviously you have to kiss him.

It's probably a rule or something.

So you move your hand and kiss him, dipping your face and mostly catching his mouth, which is cool, considering your very limited kissing experience.

Karkat squeaks and your brain shuts down for a second because the human brain is nowhere near designed for that much adorable at once.

Abruptly, Karkat jerks backwards just as you’re about to scramble onto the bed and you tip forward awkwardly and smash your nose on his shoulder.

"Fug," you groan, reaching for your nose, and Karkat slaps your hand away.

"You're fine. And we could be doing this to _Love, Actually_ and I will have my underwear twisted and shoved up my own asshole if I'm not gonna have my first Dave Strider make out session in front of one of the most romantic movies on earth, so move your ass, we're going downstairs."

He shoves at you and you can't help the snort that twinges your already aching nose as Karkat jumps off the bed and heads out the door.

Another thought strikes you.

"Hey, we can double date with Rose and Kanaya!"

A voice floats up the stairs, as soft as a springtime breeze over a field of daises—

"LIKE FUCKING HELL WE CAN."

And you bust up laughing, falling over onto the bed because yeah.

You don’t really feel like sharing him either.


End file.
